


Technoheal

by SkyWolfSong



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyWolfSong/pseuds/SkyWolfSong
Summary: Wilbur's feet were stuck to the ground, as though he was in a pit of quicksand. His mind wondered if he was and how long it would take until there was a roof above his head, and would it hurt to suffocate, sand filling his lungs with blackness pressed on all sides?He wasn't conscious of thinking that though. It mattered nothing to him, when the green and yellow and sky-blue of his surroundings swept together in a cascade of colour, as he saw red and black fill his vision, painting the world in dark hues, as another sword swung forwards, a shining blade that quickly became anything but gold.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 106





	Technoheal

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to have two more parts but I haven't been able to finish them.
> 
> Cross-posted on Wattpad.

Blood was similar to wine in many aspects. It was similar in hue and texture, to the point where the two could often be mistaken for one another.

Wine was a symbol of status and the upper class, and blood was the drink of vampires in novels and fairy tales, those creatures that weaved through the upper rungs of society and preyed on innocent victims.

In fact, it was those thoughts of blood and vampires that burst into Wilbur's mind when everything else was frozen, when his sword was heavy and his injured arms weak. When he watched a silver blade slice through the air, splitting apart the relative security the failing light of evening brought and sending droplets arcing towards the ground, as if they were spilt from a crystal glass.

Wilbur's feet were stuck to the ground, as though he was in a pit of quicksand. His mind wondered if he was and how long it would take until there was a roof above his head, and would it hurt to suffocate, sand filling his lungs with blackness pressed on all sides?

He wasn't conscious of thinking that though. It mattered nothing to him, when the green and yellow and sky-blue of his surroundings swept together in a cascade of colour, as he saw red and black fill his vision, painting the world in dark hues, as another sword swung forwards, a shining blade that quickly became anything but gold.

***

Four bodies lay in the clearing and a trail of wine followed the fifth away.

***

Techno wasn't a healer. He wasn't even close. He had a rough understanding of how the medicines in his house worked, their functions and purposes, but his training was never in depth and mostly learnt from quick experiments and the occasional reading of the journals left by the house's former inhabitants.

So when, at the late hours of the day, just as the last of the sun's rays fled the sky, Techno was presented with his first problem that required more than battle prowess and military strategy, he blanked. He seemed to float from the doorway to the bedroom, heavy silence ringing in his ears as he watched Wilbur lay Phil's limp body on the bed. He was a statue in the doorway, his mind detached from him and lost in another world. Wilbur turned and in that moment, Techno registered the look on his face, the fear in his wide eyes and the fury in his clenched jaw. He said something but the ringing -

Techno shook his head from side to side, long and quick movements that were brought on by nothing but instinct. His eyes were closed and his surroundings a faint outline imprinted in his memory -

Until they weren't and he snapped to attention, Wilbur glaring down at him as his fingers dug through the thin fabric of the shirt around Techno's shoulders.

"Are you listening to me?" Wilbur's voice was rough with emotion, but all Techno heard was anger. Legitimate, bubbling, burning madness that had nothing to do with Techno's actions and everything with his inability to grasp the situation. But he couldn't move, couldn't think with his mind as foggy or blank or whatever it was. Maybe there was no harsh grip on his shoulders, maybe Wilbur wasn't looming above him, dark as a cloud in a storm. But there was the next two words that cut straight through the glass in his mind.

"Help. Him."


End file.
